Get Out
by Pappii
Summary: He really was the last person Bel wanted to see today. - BelFran. Swearing, lemon.


My 2009 V-Day fic. Was also my first smutfic after a break from them.

**Disclaimer:** If Reborn was mine, I'd be using Fran as a soft toy every night.

* * *

"You want me to babysit Fran... Do you even realize what day it is today?"

"Of _course_ we do, Bel-chan~"

"Suck it up, you fucking stuck-up, prissy asshole, and look after the fucking kid."

"I refuse. There is not way in _hell_ I am looking after that goddamn _try hard_._ Especially_ not today."

"You fucking trash. You'll do as your fucking told. Everyone else is busy."

"No. Fucking. Way."

Maybe if Belphegor had just accepted the fact that he'd be babysitting the new kid, he wouldn't have walked out the conference room with whiskey and glass entangled in his hair and tiara - a well-aimed shot that stupid swordsman decided to dodge. The temper, however, probably wouldn't have been much different.

Kicking open the door of his private quarters, grumbling to himself about 'stupid bosses', 'stupid sharkfaces', and 'stupid uncute kohais', the prince made sure to slam the door closed again as hard as possible, smirking in triumph as the massive crash reverberated down the hallway, followed by the distant sound of smashing glass against a solid object and a screaming yell from a certain swordsman. "Get what you deserve, peasant," He muttered to himself almost happily - or happy for Belphegor, at least - and turned to face his room. Instantly, though, his face fel to a scowl as he looked around through blond, messy hair.

"Get out of my room," He stated as soon as his gaze landed on his bed, his scowl deepening - hidden eyes darkening - as the illusion was dropped, and he was left forcing himself not to explode at the last person he wanted to see. "Get. Out. Of. My. Room." He repeated, beyond annoyed with _everyone_ today.

"You're getting good at this, though, Bel-senpai," Belphegor's scowl only continued to deepen as the illusionist calmly pulled his hat off his head - he only ever risked doing so behind closed doors when he was alone or taunting the prince - and placed it on the bed beside him. After staring at it for a long moment, he lifted his gaze - his eyes empty and loyal, never betraying what the kid was thinking - and stood. His boots were silent as he approached the blond, lifting his hand to tangle it into the Storm Varia's hair.

"Don't. Touch me." A silver flash. A knife pressed to flesh. Belphegor wrenched his hair free of Fran's hold, the blade still pressed against the magician's throat before the blond shoved a well delivered kick into the boy's stomach, sending him flying back three, four, five feet along the polished wooden floor. In a blink, he was standing with one foot on the fallen Varia's stomach with the knife pointing blade down, hovering over his chest. "Get out of my sight before I kill you, you annoying, uncute kohai. The _last_ person I want to see today is _you._"

Fran just blinked up at him, that usual blank look set in stone on his face. "You aren't ready to accept any sort of reward on Valentine's Day?" he questioned, sounding unsure of himself as he eyed the knife warily. He liked pain, yes, but he also liked being _alive_. A knife blade through his heart wasn't going to help that. Now, though, it was Belphegor's turn to blink and stare at the other as though he had just randomly sprouted a pair of ears - not that that hadn't happened before with Marmon on Christmas a few years before he died.

"You think I care about a stupid commercial holiday that that gay freak Lussuria is _in love_ with?" He snorted lightly, lifting his foot of the illusionist and kicking him in the side not-so-half-heartedly before slipping the knife away and moving to his bed, chucking the frog hat onto the floor carelessly. He fell backwards onto the mattress, give a contented sigh as he sunk into the plushness of the padding, choosing to ignore Fran as the boy pulled himself to his feet and casually brushed himself off as though nothing had happened.

"What's so great about February 14th that you need to be alone, then?" Fran questioned, leaving Bel mumbling in his thoughts about 'stupid kouhais who need to learn when to leave and to not ask so many questions'. The prince tried his hardest to ignore the approaching magician, but failed and cracked open an eye, unaware he had closed them in the first place.

"Everyone likes dying on February 14th," He said, a smirk slowly working its way across his lips. Once he was within arms reach, the blond grabbed the front of Fran's jacket, yanking the boy onto the bed and on top of him. Out of habit and instinct, the boy knelt up, straddling his senpai despite the sharp knife pressed to his throat, the tip digging into his skin slightly. "Mother, Father, Jill, Marmon... Maybe you'd like to join them." To emphasize the threat, he pressed the knife harder against the flesh of the illusionist's throat, not at all surprised when he was given a short, low moan in response. "Fucking masochist," Belphegor muttered under his breath, despite how hypocritical he was being.

The surprise, however, did come. It came in the form of his knife being knocked to the floor and a pair of chapped lips crashing into his. The kiss - however needy - was shortly broken, Belphegor's mouth trailing down the pale skin of the boy to lap at the small pool of blood that had gathered on Fran's neck. A few minutes of wandering hands, nipping teeth, gasped moans and small whimpers - as well as a well set up illusion of a locked door of the room - left them completely stripped, their positions switched and a sadistic grin set on his slightly bruised lips. "Give me my reward, you fucking masochist," He spoke against the skin and bone of Fran's shoulder, breathing shallowly before clamping his teeth down.

"F-Fucking... Sa... Sadist..." The illusionist moaned, his hips bucking to where Belphegor's had been - the blond was in a teasing mood and had moved them just out of reach. Hands began wandering, one closing around Fran's cock, the other resting on his hip as the Varia's Storm all but shoved himself inside the completely unprepared boy, shuddering at the half-scream, half-moan that escaped the magician's throat. The prince's smirk had continued to grow, low moans sounding in the back of his own throat as he switched between teasing fingers and teasing hip movements, constantly biting and nipping at the new Varia's neck and shoulders, chest and arms, wherever he could comfortably reach.

There was always one thing when it came to fucking the Varia's Mist, Belphegor mused as he began to feel the restricted movements around his own cock and the more frequent moans from the vocal Fran. It always seemed to be over too quick. This time wasn't different, the illusionist clamping his teeth down on his lower lip to stop himself from crying out - and potentially embarassing himself - as he came into the prince's hand, the spasming shudders of his orgasm tightening his muscles around Belphegor and quickly bringing him to his own end, collapsing down onto Fran.

For a moment, they just lay there, panting slightly as they concentrated on refocussing their vision. Within moments, though, Fran felt the familiar feel of a foot against his back and then the hard floor meeting his face as he was kicked off the bed.

"Get out of my room."


End file.
